The Person You Want to Be
by TheSoundDefense
Summary: On a cold winter's day in Kanto, a young runaway has a chance encounter with an impoverished young girl. They talk briefly about their lives, their futures and their aspirations. This story will eventually be part of Pokémon: Return to Kalos, but for now, enjoy it as a standalone piece.


After nearly a full day of nonstop traveling, a twelve-year-old, blue-haired boy finally let himself take a break, coming to rest in a park in Fuschia City. He rested his hands on his knees for a moment, catching his breath, his legs sore and tired. He looked around for someplace to sit that wasn't covered in snow, spying a large tree that was clean at its base. He walked over and sat down, sliding his backpack off and leaning back against the trunk of the tree, sighing. He thought about diving into some of the food he had brought with him, but despite eating little today, he didn't have much of an appetite.

Now that he had finally stopped walking, his thoughts were able to catch up to him. He had been trying not to think too hard about the life he was leaving behind. He was abandoning a life of luxury, living in a mansion, sleeping in a giant bed, with a full plate of gourmet food every night. Now he had nothing to look forward to. He had nowhere to stay, no way of making money, and the only food he had was what he was able to fit in his backpack.

After three days on the run, he was starting to doubt his decision to leave home. While he had faced a life of unhappiness there, life on the run was starting to look very much the same. He was hungry, tired and freezing cold, and he didn't know when any of that was going to change. He thought about his parents, whom he still loved dearly, despite the conflict that had always existed between them. He thought about Growlie, his beloved pet Growlithe, who had been his best friend as long as he could remember. The prospect of never seeing them again, in this moment, was more than he could bear. He felt himself starting to cry, and he let the tears flow for several minutes, as he hugged his knees to his chest.

As he sniffled and wiped his eyes, he failed to notice the footsteps slowly approaching. He continued to wallow in his own misery, no longer crying but still depressed, not looking up until he heard a voice in front of him.

"Can you scoot over?"

He blinked, sitting up. "Yeah… sorry…" He glanced upward, eyes scanning the girl in front of him, panicking as he saw a familiar face he could never forget.

"Gyah!" he shouted, scooting backward fearfully, startling the girl. "What are you doing here?!"

"What do you mean, what am I doing here?" she responded, confused but annoyed. "It's a public park. Anyone can be here."

"That's not…" His eyes carefully studied the girl standing in front of him, holding a large snowball in her hands. She was the spitting image of the horrible young girl that he had run away from, with a near-identical face and build, and almost the same long red hair. As he looked closer, however, he could see some critical differences. This girl's hair was straight, instead of curly and perfectly styled. She looked gaunt and dangerously skinny, far more thin than the refined girl he had come to know and fear. Most importantly, however, this girl had ragged and thin clothes, with a tattered and torn winter jacket; the girl he knew would never be caught dead in an outfit like this.

He sighed in relief, glad that he hadn't been found. "Sorry, I thought you were someone else, is all…"

She cocked her head. "She must not be a very nice person, if that's how you react."

"You can say that again." He scooted over, making some room for the girl, who sat down next to him, still holding the snowball. He glanced down at it, curious, then recoiled a bit in shock as she leaned in and took a large bite of it.

"Why are you eating that?" he asked, a bit grossed out. "Are you sure that's… clean?"

"It's clean enough," she responded after swallowing. "And I'm eating it because it's dinnertime."

"You eat snow for dinner?" His eyebrows raised as he smirked a bit, assuming that she was joking. "Is that usually on the menu?"

"Most nights," she replied, not picking up on his sarcasm. "We can only afford real food once or twice a week."

The boy's eyes shot open wide, his mouth agape in horror. "Wha… you…" As he watched her take another large bite out of the snowball, clearly starved, he immediately reached for his backpack and opened it up, pulling out the first food item he could find, which was a wrapped sandwich that he had taken from the kitchen staff's supplies.

"Here, have this." He held the sandwich out toward her eagerly, almost forcing it into her face. Her eyes widened as she stared at it hungrily, her stomach demanding that she immediately reach out and take it.

"Are… are you sure?"

"Of course I am." He watched as she gently took it out of her hands, then pulled the backpack closer to her, to show all of the food that he had placed inside. "You can take as much as you like."

She stared in amazement at this bounty, not having had access to this much food in years. Her heart swelled with gratitude as she hastily unwrapped the sandwich in her hand, taking a large bite; she leaned back against the tree, closing her eyes and savoring the taste for a moment, before swallowing and going for another, eating the sandwich at a breakneck pace.

The boy smiled and watched for a minute, relieved that she was getting a proper meal, before turning his attention away, looking around at the snow-covered park. Once the girl had gotten halfway through the sandwich, she finally lowered it for a moment, taking a break and looking back at her companion.

"What's your name?" she asked.

He glanced back at her, smiling, glad to have someone to talk to for the first time since he left home. "It's James. What's yours?"

"I'm Jessie."

His eyebrows raised, suspicious once again at yet another similarity between this girl and the one he had left behind. "J… Jessie? Is that… short for anything?"

"It's short for Jessica."

He nodded, a bit more relieved, as she took another bite of the sandwich, swallowing quickly, before continuing. "So why do you have a backpack full of food? Are you running away from home or something?"

James nodded in response, a bit surprised and impressed that she had intuited the answer so easily. "Yes, I am."

"How come?"

He sighed, looking down and hugging his knees again. "I wasn't happy… I didn't think I'd ever be happy." She sat back against the tree, taking another bite as she looked toward him, studying the sad expression on his face as he continued.

"My family had all these plans for me, and I didn't want any part of them. They would never let me go out and play or make friends of my own. They wanted me to be some boring, stuffy businessman, no matter how many times I told them I hated it. They wanted me to be this high society person, who acts like standing around and talking at parties is a good idea of fun."

"Ugh, I hate those people," Jessie responded. She wasn't quite telling the truth, as she had dreamed of living the high life ever since she was placed in her poor foster home, but she wanted to show some sympathy for her new friend.

"Me too," he muttered. "I was dreading the idea of being like that when I grew up."

"Well, what kind of person do you want to be?"

"I don't really know. I never got a chance to think about it." He looked up, pondering the question seriously for the first time. "I want to be someone who does something with Pokémon… someone who travels all over the world, seeing a bunch of new regions and new sights and having fun. And I want to do something… important. I want to be someone who can change the world for the better."

"I think everyone wants to feel important." Jessie smiled, finding these aspirations to be somewhat cute. "You could just deal with it until you're an adult, and then leave. You wouldn't have to be cold and hungry."

"I could have, I guess." He sighed. "But the real problem was Jessebelle."

"Jessebelle?" Her eyebrows raised. "Is that the girl you thought I was?"

He nodded in response. "You look really similar. It's kind of scary, actually."

"So what's wrong with her?" She popped the rest of the sandwich into her mouth.

"She's the worst person in the world, is what's wrong with her." He held his knees closer. "I thought she was perfect, at first. She was so pretty, and seemed so nice. But then I got to know her better, and she became this awful person. Insulting, demanding, controlling, nothing nice to say to anyone… and my parents said I had to marry her."

"They what?" Jessie was shocked out of the reverie she had briefly entered, after realizing that she reminded him of a pretty girl he knew. "You didn't even get a say?"

He shook his head sadly. "That's when I left. The idea of being with her for the rest of my life… I couldn't stomach it for another moment." He looked out at the park, acutely feeling the cold air on his skin. "Anything would be better than that… even this."

"I'm sorry, James," she offered. "She sounds awful. You deserve better."

He thanked her quietly, still looking out at Fuschia City, feeling better after unloading his woes onto someone else. She nodded and looked into his backpack, still hungry and wondering what else he had brought. As she searched, her eyes settled on a wrinkled sheet of paper near the bottom of the bag; she reached in and pulled it out, curious.

"What's this?" She glanced over it, surprised to find that there was a detailed illustration on it. It appeared to be a blue-haired man wearing a mask and a colorful outfit, with a cape. James glanced over, wondering what she had found, and his eyes widened with panic when he realized what she was looking at.

"No! Don't look at that!" He immediately reached over and grabbed it out of her hands, flushing red with embarrassment as he held the sheet of paper to his chest. She jumped a bit as he snatched it away, looking back at him.

"Geez, what was that for?" She tried to take another look at the picture, but he was keeping it hidden as best he could. Even without another glance, however, her mind started putting the pieces together.

"Wait… was that you?" She grinned wide, tickled pink as she realized what she'd seen. "Oh my gosh, was that you as a superhero?! Did you draw yourself?!"

"Sh… shut up!" James shot back, beet red from embarrassment. "Don't make fun of me! It's just…" He tried to think of some excuse, some way to make his fantasy seem less ridiculous.

"I'm not making fun of you!" Jessie insisted, scooting closer. "I think it's cool!"

"No, you don't," he replied, looking away. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm not, really!" She tried again to get a look at the paper. "Honestly, I always dreamed of being one, too."

He glanced back at her, skeptical. "You did? You're not just saying that?"

She nodded. "Yep, always. I thought it would make me more like my mom."

"Your mom?" He hadn't expected that response, and he turned more toward her, curious. "Who is she?"

Jessie smiled and looked up, reminiscing. "My mom was the biggest hero I ever knew, and I always wanted to be like her. She was like a secret agent. She was always going out on trips to save the world from bad people, and she would bring me souvenirs from all over. She worked for a group called Team Rocket."

"Team Rocket, huh? Never heard of them." He sat forward and kept listening, worried about how Jessie was referring to her mother in the past tense.

"Yeah, most people haven't. I never met anyone else from Team Rocket, though I heard Mom talking to the boss every now and again." She sighed. "But when I was five, she left on a mission to discover a really rare Pokémon, and… she never came back."

"Oh, no… I'm sorry, Jessie."

She looked down, looking unhappy but not upset. The loss was so long ago that she couldn't feel the sting of it anymore. "They tried to put me up for adoption, but nobody wanted me, and I got put in a foster home. My foster parents are great, and I love them, but… I wish I had my real mom to look up to again. I wish I even knew where she was."

James nodded quietly, secretly wishing that his mother could be someone for him to look up to. "Maybe if you become a superhero, you can find her again."

"Maybe." She held herself gently, the chill of the evening setting in. "At this rate, though, I'm never going to be a superhero. I don't know if I'll ever be anything."

"I know what you mean." He looked down at himself, seeing the dirt stains on his pants, and the shoes that were not at all equipped to keep out the snow covering the ground. What did his future hold now? Did he even have a future anymore?

Jessie turned and watched him for a moment, seeing the somberness in his face, feeling a little less alone in the world. "Where are you staying? Here in Fuschia City?"

He shook his head, reaching for his backpack. "I can't. I'm too close to home. They'll find me if I stay here." He pulled the backpack closer, reaching in and taking three sandwiches out, placing them close to her. "Here, keep these cold and they'll stay good."

She nodded, reaching out and taking them, keeping her eyes on him. "Where are you going to go now?"

"I don't know. I don't have anywhere to go." He zipped his backpack up. "I guess I'll just keep walking."

He held the backpack close, not ready to stand up yet, not ready to face the cold and empty world that awaited him. A few seconds later, he started, eyes wide, as he felt Jessie's lips pressing against his cheek. She pulled back a second later, watching as he quickly flushed red, looking back at her.

"Thank you for sharing with me." She smiled at him warmly. "You're a hero to me, James."

"I-it's no problem…" he stammered, a bit dumbstruck, as he managed to get to his feet, taking a few seconds longer than usual to slide his backpack on, as if he had forgotten how. She watched as he stepped away from the tree, up to the edge of the fallen snow, before turning back to her. She was still smiling, a bit pink herself.

"I hope you find someone who makes you happy," she offered, feeling a bit warmer on the inside. As the years went on, she would be repeatedly weathered and beaten down by life, making her more cold and prickly, and forcing her to throw up one mental defense after another. For now, though, she was still a sweet and personable twelve-year-old girl.

"Thanks, Jessie." He smiled back as their eyes met, thinking that if Jessebelle were a bit more like Jessie, maybe he wouldn't be in this situation now. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

She nodded, watching as he turned around and left the park, walking on toward his unknown future.


End file.
